Merry Christmas, Anxiety Monster

It was really nice, how many of you responded to my half-joking, kind of sarcastic Story about parenting with an anxiety disorder.  I realized that perhaps by answering here, where everyone can read it, maybe just one less person will be left feeling neurotic and pathetic because of their imperfect mental health - 

I was diagnosed with an Acute Fear Based Panic Disorder.  I got that diagnosis while still fighting for a doctor to take my physical illness seriously.  It sounds rational, that fears would trigger panic, but in many cases they aren’t what most would consider a natural fear, or its a seemingly natural fear (spiders, drowning, big loud dogs) that a person blows way out of proportion.   Someone fearing drowning may never get in a boat, into a pool, or even that bathtub; hearing really heavy rain might make them panic.  For me, my fear is the loss of control.  

I hate flying, not because I’m scared of crashing and dying, but because I don’t get to decide when we stop, even if I really need to stop.  I get anxious going into dental work or surgery, because I have no control over the outcome.  My biggest fear, though, as far as anxiety goes, is being sick, and losing control of my own body (that’s also why I don’t drink or do recreational drugs).  

It’s ironic and DEMONIC, that my biggest panic trigger has also always been my most severe symptom of Endometriosis.  I was always nauseous or throwing up or dealing with diarrhea, and I was always so fucking anxious.  I would get sucked into the most horrifying cycle of my sickness making me anxious, and my anxiety making me sick.  I’d move into the bathroom for days at a time, in a heavy Gravol and Ativan fog. 

Why is barfing so scary?!  Everyone does it!  And it’s not even the awful physical feelings that set me off...it’s the fact that if I’m going to be sick, I’m going to be sick, and I can’t stop it.  I have no choice.  It needs to come out whether I’m ready for it to, or not!  But it goes a little further for me, which is where the neurotic and pathetic feelings kick in.  

Yesterday a girlfriend told be she’d gotten hit by the tummy bug, and I instantly got prickly and warm, regardless of the fact that I haven’t been with her in weeks!  There’s no way I could have gotten her germs!  But then my husband goes out with her husband last night, and her husband gets hit this morning...so I spent the day, tense, and avoiding all kisses and snack sharing.  Reminding myself that it’s not like our husbands were making out the night before, and also preparing myself.  

‘Just in case’ is a mega coping mechanism of mine; make sure the toilets are clean, that my little drug drawer is full, that there’s ginger ale and apple juice in the fridge.  It definitely didn’t help that I was already nauseous, because it’s the end of the month, and that’s just who I am at the end of the month.  

We went to wander around Christmas lights this evening, and honestly, fresh air is SO good for an anxious brain.  I’d avoided taking an Ativan before going, because I was already so tired, but on our way home I took one.  In Starbucks, after my child said his tummy felt weird...and later that he was too full for his apple chips, and then he got real snuggly, which is wonderful, but made me panic because he’s whiny lately, not sweet and snuggly.  

I’d taken a few sips of my latte then packed it up to take home to my fridge, because I didn’t want to waste it by finishing it and then puking.  I put my kid in the car sans jacket etc..less things to wash if he ended up puking, and I checked ‘how are you feeling?’ every few minutes during the ride home.  He fell asleep.  And went right to sleep when we got home.  He’s not sick, he’s just exhausted.  Right?!  

I sat, coloring, in the kitchen until midnight, too anxious to sleep, and waiting just in case he woke up sick.  Because wake up sicks are the worst.  And now I’ll lay in bed, with our doors open so I can hear him snoring, and hopefully I’ll fall asleep.  And hopefully none of us barf.  

We’re not going to barf.  We’re fine.  And even if we are going to get sick, we will be fine.  Christmas will be fucked, but we’ll be ok.  I will be ok.  I have survived every single sick day, so why does even the mention of a sick tummy make me spin and sweat and over prepare, just in case?  Because I have an Acute Fear Based Panic Disorder.   And now you know!

Ps.  For the record, I actually appreciate being notified when friends have been sick, especially if we have been in some kind of physical contact over the last few days, or are planning on being together.  I don’t want you thinking that warning me will drive me into a nervous breakdown!  Most days I can just take a few deep breaths, and I appreciate being able to prepare ‘just in case’.  

Oily Princess

DoTERRA reminds us that sharing our story is the best way to attract others that would like to learn more about the benefits of Essential Oils.  It makes total sense, honesty attracts people and being able to relate to someone on a deeper level makes us more comfortable whatever the situation.  

Its 4:30am and I have Balance and Peppermint diffusing, I have DigestZen massaged into my tummy, and my very own Princess Georgia blend rubbed between both feet.  I figured this was the perfect time to explain why.  Especially since March, Endometriosis Awareness Month has to an end (but awareness should never end), and the Endometriosis is really the root of the reason I considered dipping my toes into the EO world in the first place. 

I have to start by saying, a year ago I'd have laughed in your face (politely) if you suggested I'd be blogging about EOs. Because I, Jorja Lindley love drugs!  I love drugs so much, and modern medical intervention has saved me so often that there has never been any room in my life for hippy-dippy naturopathic, holistic voodoo magic.  I have always believed in magic, but the drugs work so why risk wasting time trying anything else?  We go with what makes us comfy, and there's nothing wrong with that.  There's also nothing wrong with using drugs (prescription and over the counter) to help cope with a debilitating physical and mental illness!  Perhaps that was my biggest draw to doTERRA as a brand and as a support system; they don't preach or push an ALL natural lifestyle on their customers and employees, they are happy to walk hand in hand with Western medicine.   And that's how it goes in our house.  

About 6 months ago I caved and let my dear mommy friend, cover my table in little bottles and tell me why I should give them a chance.  She had recently begun building her own business around doTERRA's products, and she'd always supported my small business so I wanted to show her the same love.  When entering the essential oil world you're to ask yourself what you'd most like help with, or what aspect of your life would you like more support for, and you go from there.  For me it was Endometriosis, it's always Endometriosis.  

For those of you who don't yet know, Endometriosis is a chronic disease causing the Endometrial cells lining the inside of the uterus, to grow outside the uterus and adhere to surrounding organs.  Once outside of the uterus, the cells can not be flushed out with a period once a month so they simply accumulate.  Forever.  Throughout a woman's menstrual cycle the ovaries (hormones) send signals to the Endometrial cells to react (expand and contract) and that's what causes the monthly cramps and mood swings and cravings.  The Endometrial cells outside of the uterus also react the hormones, and that expanding and contracting is what causes an array of symptoms, depending on where the cells have attached themselves.  (More on that later.)

Meg went out of her way to share her story with me, and answer all my super skeptical questions, and (most importantly) brought me Starbucks so I felt obligated to sign up and purchase SOMETHING.  Honestly, that was my reason for purchasing my first doTERRA products.  I loved Meg, she loved these oils, if I bought something she'd never 'bug' me about them again!

I ordered ClaryCalm, doTERRA's own specialty 'Monthly Blend for Women'.  It features Clary Sage, Lavender, Bergamot, Ylang Ylang and Vitex Berry essential oil, all of which are meant to help stabilize hormones and mood, and ease the discomforts of 'that time of the month'.  So why not!  I also ordered a bottle of Citrus Bliss, another doTERRA proprietary blend, combining Wild Orange, Grapefruit, Bergamot, Lemon, Tangerine, Mandarin, Clementine, and a little Vanilla.  It just smelt good, I am absolutely a citrus person.  

My package arrived 5 days later and I used them right away.  I'm also a sucker for good packaging, and doTERRA's packaging is on point, which (embarrassingly) had me more excited to try them out.  ClaryCalm was not a magical revelation (like I was expecting, lol).  I liked the scent and the idea behind it, and while I thought it may have been helping with the minor day-to-day discomforts, it did not touch the pain of and Endo-flare.  Only prescription narcotics can numb that pain (but make me far too loopy to confidently parent so I avoid it as much as possible), so who was I kidding?  (More on ClarySage later.)  That Citrus Bliss, though?  That is the bottle that sold me.  That is the bottle that made be a believer.  

Aromatherapy is using essential oils to help improve physical and mental wellbeing through our sense of smell. Whether the essential oils are dropped into a diffuser, used during therapeutic massage, or just huffed right out of the bottle the scent is what triggers positive reactions in the brain, leading to positive reactions in the body.  Smelling Citrus Bliss made me happy, instantly!  There will always be essential oils that simply speak to different people in different ways, and Citrus Bliss was screaming my name.  All citrus essential oils can be used to help boost emotions and energy, and anyone denying they don't need a boost is a big fat liar!

For me, the next thing on my doTERRA to-do list was finding help with my anxiety.  While my anxiety and panic disorder is technically a whole other illness, it was initially triggered by my undiagnosed physical illness, and it continues to be triggered by my Endometriosis symptoms.  Postpartum, my anxiety got much worse.  It wasn't due to the natural stresses of new parenthood, but the fact that my hormones were simply fucked right up even after giving birth. PMDD was a new diagnosis I received, and it's basically PMS x's a billion.  The physical pains and aches that come with the female cycle aren't necessarily worse, but the unbalanced hormones lead to deep cravings, intense mood swings (which is never experienced before), and anxiety.  As luck would have it!  

I've been on the same anti-anxiety medication since high school, and I was at the max dosage of that particular drug. Instead of adding a ton of another prescription, I wanted to give the essential oils a try.  My main goal though, was to avoid the emergency panic attack drugs (Ativan is a heavy as-needed drug, and can be highly addictive) as much as possible.  My next doTERRA order included their Balance and Serenity blends, and Vetiver.  The blends were both well suggested for dealing with stress and anxiety, and Vetiver is compared to an (all natural) Xanax or Ambien.  I mixed the 3 in a roller bottle with a carrier oil (which helps the essential oils spread and absorb better, and extends the life of each bottle!) and that became my Princess Georgia potion (eventually DigestZen was added).  I roll it on the bottoms only my feet when I feel the anxiety creeping in, sometimes on my chest between my boobs, where I often carry anxious feelings. 

If I'm being honest, there are still times when the sick kicks in so suddenly, and the panic takes over so instantly, I still take those emergency drugs.  The doTERRA essential oils work, but require a little more patience for the relief, where as narcotics are pretty instant.  It also took me almost 5 months to really have enough confidence in the effects of the essential oils, where I can now turn to my little roller bottles first, and not the orange pill bottles.  And that's been my biggest essential oil feat!  When I get sick I used to fumble through my drawers for the right meds (Ativan, Gravol, Imodium), but now I have my essential oils on the bathroom counter (or in my purse) ready to be put to use.  And now I have the confidence to allow my body the time it needs to naturally settle itself (most of the time).  

My next order went back to focusing on my Endometriosis again, more so my physical side effects.  Because my Endometriosis has always concentrated on my stomach and bowels, I have dealt with chronic morning sickness, nausea and diarrhea.  An Endo-flare for me usually means way too much time spent in my bathroom, on or in front of the toilet. ZenGest (DigestZen) is the doTERRA tummy blend, recommended to help ease nausea, diarrhea, constipation, motion sickness and indigestion.  (Yes!  Some how it can help one person pooping too much, and help someone not pooping at all at the same time!)

Peppermint is also now my best friend.  My Endometriosis comes with nausea, my anxiety comes with dizziness, and they're both so settled by simply inhaling Peppermint.  Peppermint is in all of my diffuser blends, especially mixed with that Citrus Bliss for an amazing happy energy boost!  And now that I've entered the joyous world of (chemically induced) Menopause, Peppermint is becoming an even bested friend.  Many essential oils don't come with a physical sensation when applied (there are a few 'hot' oils though) but Peppermint is a very chilly gift.  And menopause requires chilly!  When the uncalled for heat creeps in I roll it behind my neck and down my arms.  It's a less bulky and better smelling version of the cold wash cloth over my shoulders!

And that brings me back to ClaryCalm, the oil that started it all.  I have avoided Lupron treatment (the drug inducing menopause) for years having heard such awful things about it, but when I was told it was mandatory prep for my long-awaited hysterectomy I of course agreed, and I brainstormed all the ways to battle the inevitable side effects.  I am only one month into treatment and my surgeon made the mistake of 'reassuring' me that the first month is the easiest, but ClaryCalm has become a daily drop for me.  Again, it doesn't touch the physical aching and cramping, but it has been a savior for my hormones.  Which is a savior for anyone that has to spend any amount of time with me.  Lupron seems to leave my chest constantly heavy with the urge to cry, sad tears or happy tears or angry tears, and no one has time for constant crying!  A dab of ClaryCalm on the inside of my ankles (the uterus pressure point!) and it does give my hormones and my emotions a sense of balance.  

Ta da! 

I stared sharing my essential oils journey very naturally via social media, because I was proud of my success with the doTERRA products, and I knew I had so many followers that suffered the same way I do.  I said I'd never 'sell' doTERRA, but eventually it just made sense!  Officially representing the company put more meaning and determination behind all of my shares, and the sense of joy and pride I feel when an #alwaysessential follower shares their love for the products I'd helped them find, is both surprising and a gift.  The world and all its problems won't be saved by essential oils, but it is nice to feel as though I have helped someone and their family by introducing them to these little bottles in hopes that they'll receive as much benefit as our family has. 

And again, it's still surreal to hear myself say (type) such things. 

If you have any interest is learning more about doTERRA and their essential oils, any questions about helping battle your own Anxiety Monster or illnesses in an all-natural way, please visit my little Facebook page below, and send me a message.  I want nothing more then to help if I can!

https://m.facebook.com/groups/1685002571716735?ref=bookmarks

Or send an email to alwaysessential@gmail.com

Princess Holidays

This is my favorite time of year, in general, and also for reflecting on all that's come since this time last year as most people tend to do. And it has been SO much. And the coming new year holds SO much already. And I'm a little overwhelmed. 

Overwhelmed shal be my excuse for the lack of 2015 blogging. 
In July (which is already 5 months ago, geezes) our utterly glorious baby turned one, and I underwent my third Endo-cleaning laparoscopy surgery. Very soon after I fell off the wagon, for lack of better words, as far as my anxiety goes. Recovering from surgery with a baby, coming to terms with the fact that despite past efforts and despite getting pregnant my disease continues to grow and spread, coming to terms with postpartum PMDD was overwhelming. Literally feeling the Endometriosis growing back immediately after surgery was overwhelming. Realizing once again, after working the same job for 3 years, that I am too sick to hold a job was very overwhelming. Coping with the constant guilt that accompanies a sometimes-debilitating chronic disease as been depressingly overwhelming. Needing to adjust my antianxiety prescriptions has been extremely overwhelming (and dizzy, and full of headaches). Accepting the Endometriosis treatment that will start in the new year (which I won't talk about until the new year) already has me feeling very overwhelmed. 

Do you know what has been the MOST overwhelming, though? The amount of good, and love, and laughs, and support, and family milestones, and true friendships, and small business success, and marital happiness and comfortableness that has filled this last year, despite all the afore mentioned. 

Of course it is not possible to reflect without seeing one million mental pictures of my baby. Growing up way too fast! He turned a year old and suddenly he is such a real, and wonderful little person. He runs and never walks, he gives the sweetest spontaneous hugs, all of a sudden he's starting to find all these new words ('car' and 'wowwww' are his current fave), he loves to sit and flip through all of his books, he has a favorite TV show and loves the water! He has 4 adorably sharp teeth (and I spend time daily praying that they all grow in straight). He is not a patient person yet, but so determined, and his little concentrating face is one of my favorite faces. I'm fairly certain he prefers his daddy to me for now, which I'm strangely ok with! He has had a persistent little cold for the last month and yet he shrieks and laughs and plays all day every, which honestly is an inspiration. Almost as inspiring as how independent he has (had to) become already. 

My dad has been in Florida for a few weeks now, so when my husband is at work I don't have someone to watch him while I have to be sick in the bathroom. I hate how much time he's had to spend in his crib, but for now it's the safest place for him when he has to be left alone (knock on wood, he hasn't tried escaping yet). I KNOW I'm not anything close to a neglectful parent, but to me it just FEELS like I am always sick, and he's always stuck in his bed. But he has never complained about it. He continues to be completely content sitting on his pillow, with the iPad on and his snack dish and a few books. He has given himself his bottle, and on very special occasions he's put himself to sleep, because my worst flare ups always seem to happen at nap time. I hate it, but it also makes me so proud. I tell myself that I do such a good job as a mom when I'm with him, that he doesn't even need me when I can't be with him. His ability to entertain himself is also pretty reassuring, considering the slim chance of ever getting a sibling!

I think my favorite thing to do these last few months, is taking him to the mall or the grocery store and letting him run around. He gets so excited to watch new people, and waves at everyone. Not a single person can pass us without smiling a real smile, and that alone feels like we are doing our part to make the world a better place. 

And 'a better place' seems like the perfect lead into my next point on my list of things to reflect upon; a group of women who have made my world a better place, and myself a better human being. They certainly aren't my oldest friends, we don't share adorable childhood memories (actually, I knew of and didn't really like a few of them in high school), we don't agree on everything and we are all SO different in SO many ways, but they are the greatest friends I have ever had. Next to my family, I have spent the most of my 2015 time with them, and when we're not together we are constantly texting each other (to the point where we've all had to mute our text group). 

Almost two months ago we managed to get away together, for a entire weekend, just us and no babies and no husbands. We didn't dress up and go out, we didn't take advantage of the freedom to nap or sleep in, we just got to really know and appreciate each other. And become best friends and not just mommy friends. Which is a big deal for someone who's felt pretty shafted in the best friend department for a very long time. 

Between parenting time, and play date time, sick time and napping as much as possible, this year I have managed to run my very own 'small shop'. BoBeads was something that was only meant to be a unique Christmas gift for my afore mentioned mommy friends, and yet the numbers at the end of my first year are so exciting. It has been a huge learning experience (and year two is already beginning with huge serious-business lessons), a great test of my patience and time management, and the perfect creative outlet. 

After inly a few months of business I was able to expand and create The Mommy Made Bazaar, a showcase for mothers who have also created handmade businesses or represent family-friendly brands! I wanted to find a way to support other women who 'go to work' after finally getting heir kids to sleep at the end of the day or hustle during nap time, and while I've questioned why I willingly took on the extra stress (I have a Spring and Christmas show under my belt now), it's been an awesome experience. The small business community is so supportive, and the women I've been able to connect with this way are inspiring. The events also raised over $600 for mommy-centered charities, which is a lovely bonus! Moms supporting moms, supporting moms!

I started out selling BoBeads to local moms in person, and now I have my own .com website and a very decent social media following that has allowed to to connect with customers as far as England, Turkey, Hawaii and New Zealand! And all the while, I've been able to contribute to my family's finances, which is extremely comforting for someone who's been too sick to get a 'real' job. Being a stay at home mom has been very rewarding (even if it wasn't really by choice) and I know it can't last forever so I take full advantage of the time with my baby, but being able to also pay our rent really minimizes the guilt that comes from not being able to work in the stereotypical sense!

Lastly, this year has been so full of family time, and I could not be more thankful for that alone. Even if I never got to experience and enjoy any of the other goodness I just typed about!

For his own reasons, my husband had to take 8 weeks off work, and while he needed to rest and regroup we also took full advantage of the extra 8 hours a day we got to spend as a little family. We found places to day trip, we took turns napping (any parents without this arrangement are insane!), we watched movies as a family and ate all together at the dinner table. We froze while joining our baby in the bath tub, and went out in public to show him off as much as possible!

We managed to take two family 'vacations' (you can't really call it a vacation once a baby is invited) this year, and each has been filled with so much love, and excitement over sharing the memories. Wandering the streets of New York City with my baby was literally a dream. My favorite people in my favorite city! And now we are in sunny summer-time Florida for the second time as a family, soaking up the sun and the glorious moments that a happy toddler creates. 

It's not just Little Lindley family time that has been plentiful these past few months, though. The majority of our days include at least a little Grampa time, and in all honesty I'd choose that over owning our own fancy house any day! There are still plenty of people who question or judge the fact that we live with our baby in my dad's basement, but in our situation it is the very best situation. And few things make me as happy as seeing my dad and his grandbaby together. Watching Judge Judy, lol. 

This summer I also flew with my baby to Kenora with my mom, to spend time with her mom. It was a trip that I dreaded and tried to get myself out of because my physical and mental illness were at an all time high, I hate flying, and Id be single-parenting for a week. But in hindsight I am SO thankful we went. My Nana moved in with my mom just a few weeks ago, so this summer was the last time I'd be able to visit that tiny city, and the only time my baby would get to be there. I was able to go to all the shops and the beach that we went to as kids, all the while getting some quality time with one of my favorite cousins and her kids, and watching my baby bond with his Nana. Despite the ups and downs of my relationship with my mom, I only ever want my baby to love her as deeply as I grew up loving her.

And then there's the family time that includes my baby sister. Huh! After 20 months of exploring and teaching and bike crashing in Australia and Thailand, my sister finally came home to visit. And meet her nephew for the very first time. And just break my heart in the most wonderful way. 

We have all been able to spend these very few days as if we've always been together and it's no big deal, but stopping to think about the significance of her trip home, and seeing her play in the ocean with my baby has been a remarkable gift. He's almost a year and a half old, but he's now been able to hug both of my long distance traveling siblings, and that simply completes my heart. 

And that's that! My fingers hurt now, and my brain feels broken! Actually, that's something else that's proven overwhelming; 'mom-brain'. Lol. It sounds ridiculous, but it is a for real affliction that has hit me HARD this past year! My dreams for 2016 include more productive brain cells. And for my baby to start sleeping through the night again. And a successful hysterectomy. And to get to watch one of my mommies birth their second baby in a tub! And being able to add 50% to my business revenue. And winning Starbucks For Life. Or even just A Week. And hearing my baby say 'I love you'! And also finding Bieber tickets. 

Wishing you the happiest, healthiest 2016 possible
Princess Georgia, xo

Efron Induced

September, 8th 2015

You know what's weird?  Experiencing a panic attack in the car. 

Usually the moment it starts I head for the bathroom.  9 times out of 10 it's my own bathroom, which says a lot about my current social life.  The bathroom is my designated recovery zone.  I usually end up sitting on the toilet for a few minutes, then sitting on the floor for a few minutes, and going back and forth until the attack is over.  Sometimes I think that my panic attacks usually happen at home because my brain NEEDS to have them, but also knows that home is the easiest place for me to recover. 

This time though, my husband and I were in the movie theater.  Zac Efron was tripping on PCP, and the camera angles went weird and the soundtrack got too loud, and I panicked.  Which is new.  New is fucking infuriating.  Make believe things never used to make me panic.  I never used to get dizzy watching a huge moving screen (a roller coaster would literally murder me right now).  I never used to HAVE to cry during an attack.  Now I do, and I fucking hate it. 

Initially I retreated to the theater bathroom, obviously far less comforting then my own bathroom.  There's usually terrible music, there's no room in the stall to sit anywhere but on the toilet, and no matter how far away from the door your stall is and how empty the rest of the bathroom is, someone always chooses to use the stall right next to yours.  It wasn't good enough. I tried for another few minutes to sit back in the theater and hold my husband's hand, but I needed MY bathroom.  In order to get from the public bathroom to my bathroom, we needed to get in the car. 

It's actually only a 5 minute drive back to our house, but it blew my mind.  When you're panicking in the bathroom, it's just you and the fan, and whoever you're texting.  That's it, that's the whole world, for the time being.  Driving home though, I saw the truth; the entire universe continues to spin whether you're functioning properly or not.  There were other couples starting their movie date night, people stocking up for the weekend at the LCBO, people walking through the parking lot with their gym bags.  There was an older couple walking hand in hand, a bunch of people gardening or cutting the grass.  Cars and trees and intersections and what seemed like the entire rest of the world being completely normal and care-free, while I held my seat belt away from my chest trying to talk my pounding heart down, and attempted to hold my tears in until I got home. 

Literally 5 minutes down a single street (also, granted a painfully long traffic light..that's painful even when I'm not dying), and I have never felt so fucking small.  Now I can't deny that while I can't even sit through a crappy movie...while I can hardly breathe...there are a million people being productive and contributing to the world.  There are people giving birth and people getting home late from work, people researching a cure for cancer and getting on a plane to go build schools in a third world country.  And I can't even breathe. 

When I'm on the bathroom floor, I'm oblivious to such things.  As far as I'm concerned, the rest of the world pauses, while I catch my breath. 

Mother vs. Monster

It is harder.

It is so much harder dealing with my illness, and the anxiety that walks hand in hand, now that I have a baby.

I don't think I ever thought it would be easier as a mother, but I hadn't imagined it'd be this much harder. And my heart hurts a lot admitting that. I keep hearing outsiders wonder, 'Why would you have a baby if you can't take care of it properly?' And that's how the Monster makes me feel.

I had surgery 5 weeks ago, and that's when my current spiral (a term Google taught me, very similar to 'falling off the wagon' but for someone who before had their mental illness in check) began. I still don't know why this surgery, and everything surrounding it, felt so different...so much worse. This was my third Laporoscopy and the first two went swimmingly! Of course it's natural to be anxious before you're about to be sliced open, but I was fairly confident going into this one. More then confident, I was excited, knowing that this surgery would bring me relief from my physical illness, and that would make mothering even more wonderful.

The hospital policies had changed a bit since my last surgery, and that threw me off. I didn't get my IV (always the worst part for me) until I was in the OR instead of in my pre-op room where my husband was there to hold my hand. The newness lit the anxious match. The anesthetist missed my first vein and the flop sweats and creepy crawlies kicked in. And this time, I honestly don't know why, I fought going under. Suddenly I hated that sleepy high! This was also when I realized for the very first time (due to the tickle on my nose from the oxygen mask) that they strap your wrists to the table, and had the drugs not kicked in when they did, I would have been on the floor at that point.

So I went under in a panic, and that's how I woke up. Coming in and out of sleep, not knowing where I was...a nurse had to find my purse and rummage through for my Ativan. And that was where it all started, this 5 weeks of feeling like a shitty mom thanks to the Anxiety Monster.

While I was in surgery I had an IUD put back in. The idea was to stunt my cycle as soon as my insides had been cleared of all current Endometriosis, in hopes of warding off new growths for as long as possible. This particular IUD releases progesterone, which was all fine and dandy when I had one 2 years ago, but it turns out having a baby can permanently FUCK up your natural hormones...and my postpartum hormones instantly clashed with the IUD hormones. And when I say clash, I mean more of a war. A blood bath of a war leaving nothing but destruction in its path.

The first night after surgery I woke up in the midst of a panic attack. This is called a nocturnal attack, they are horrifying, and this one was triggered by a super strange (not necessarily a nightmare) dream that I could not keep myself awake from. In all my anxious years, Id never experienced an attack triggered by a bad dream. It was a full blown run to the bathroom floor, get the garbage can ready, cold cloth, frantic texting attack. The same thing happened every night afterwards. At first I blamed the painkillers. But it only takes one good attack to start the spiral.

If I felt an attack brewing 13 months ago, I would drop whatever I was doing, I would take the Ativan, I would take my sweet time laying on the floor, I would call in sick, and I would sleep for hours until the panic hangover passed. But 13 months ago I didn't have a baby.

Two weeks ago an attack came out of nowhere (that's kind of a lie, I was super nauseous, so I'm sure that was the trigger) while I was feeding my baby his nap time bottle. We were just sitting on the couch watching the last night's Bachelorette, and I kept telling myself to ignore the hot prickles and the pounding chest. The second you at all acknowledge the Monster though, he just tightens his grip. Suddenly I was sure I was about to throw up and/or shit my pants and/or pass out, and his bottle lands on the floor next to where I sit him and run the the toilet. Of course he crawls in after me with absolutely no idea, as I call my dad who's upstairs in his office, and ask him to come finish nap time. And then I bawl.

Panicking and bawling because what the fuck would I have done if we lived on our own, or my dad wasn't home to look after my baby while I was dying in the bathroom? It is MY job to give him his bottle and rock him to sleep, and for the first time since becoming a mother, the Monster was robbing me of that. Robbing me blind.

Over the next few weeks, I continued to wake up sweating and pounding and frantically trying to keep awake out of weird dreams. Our son isn't confidently sleeping through the night still, so as I'm grabbing my glasses and my phone and my tummy pillow to run to the toilet, Id also wake my husband up to let me know that he had to be on call if the baby woke up. Again, that's my job.

The nocturnal attacks murdered my confidences and engrained a sense of anxiety in my brain again. I was growing afraid to go to sleep, and the attacks started happening during the day too. Being a mom means being a receptacle for guilt. Our baby had a rough delivery which kept me from holding him for hours, and that's a guilt I honestly don't think I'll ever overcome. Every mother (parent) experiences guilt revolving around what you are and aren't feeding your baby, whether you've got them on the right schedule, whether you should go back to work or not. Since becoming a mother though, no parenting choice or incident or judgement has made me feel anywhere near as guilty as the Monster has.

Some days it feels like my baby is spending more time in his crib with Bubble Guppies on, and I'm spending more time on the bathroom floor telling myself to just breathe, then we're spending time together. And that guilt is crushing. It got to a point where my husband had to take a few days off work because my dad was away for business, and I NEEDED someone else around just in case it struck while I had the baby. And that made me feel pathetic.

It is so much harder, being sick and being anxious now that I am a mother. However, this baby has me far more motivated to climb out of this panic pit, then I ever have been before. The Anxiety Monster crawls between me and my baby, and I've never wanted revenge as desperately as I do now.

So I did a lot of research, and talked to my doctor. Nocturnal panic attacks (whether you have a preexisting disorder or not) are on the list of the IUD side effects. No, I never experienced that side effect the first time I had an IUD in, but my natural hormones were in a completely different state back then. So a week ago I had it taken out. I am back on my original birth control (hello, high school Jorja!) and will take it constantly for 3 months, before reassessing the situation. I have a RAGING period now, but no weird dreams I can't wake up from, and no desperate attacks since.

Now all that's let to do is stay conscious, stay brave, and continue to work through the lingering anxiety that always follows a hugs episode. As luck would have it, my baby and I leave for a week away with my mother up north at 6:30am tomorrow, so the timing of my anxiety recovery is in no way ideal.

I know the Monster wants to travel with us, and I just need to be aware of that, and accept it. I will believe that taking as many Ativans as I need to survive the flights and the days away from my comfy place, is totally acceptable and we can worry about weaning off it again once we are back home safe. I will not feel like a pathetic failure of a mother is I need my mother's help to survive these next few days without my husband. I will be brave, and soon enough it'll all be ok.

The battle continues, maybe it will continue forever between me and the Monster. But now I am a mother, and that makes it all very different.

Back And Forward Steps (Kind Of Like A Dance)

When you become a mommy, you find this sense of power. Super power. I made life, and not even Batman can do that! I made life and I'm keeping it alive! I know when that life needs to eat, when he's too sleepy, when he just wants to be held even though I have a million other things to do..and I know these things despite the fact that he can't say more then, 'grrrr'. Super power. 

For the longest time, almost 7 months (Ps. I do indeed win the award for laziest blogger) I felt invincible. I have been remarkably productive, despite never feeling actually awake, I have been more social on a daily basis than ever before, more confident, more in love, more proud of myself. But that feeling couldn't last forever.

Every time anxiety hits, really hits, the recovery process has to start all over again. After months of being panic attack free (the low grade anxiety hovers on a regular basis, but I hadn't had an attack since laboring), one night of hit-the-floor panic, and we're back to square one. It's been 48 hours since the sudden spinning, and the sweating and the pounding through my chest, and I'm quite sure the initial threat/ fear has been eradicated. And yet, this next week will be spent constantly reassuring myself, undressing and redressing to battle the warring sweats and chills, and regular stops to put my hand on my chest and close my eyes and ask it to beat a little slower. I'll spend the next few days reminding myself that I don't NEED an Ativan right now, but feeling like I need one doesn't make me a loser. 

If you've made your way through past posts of mine, you know that my anxiety is very much fear-based, that my greatest fear is not being physically in control of my body, and that being sick to my stomach is my least favorite way to lose control. So much so, that when someone else gets sick to their stomach, and it's something I can catch, I panic.  And that's what happened this weekend. And that's something I've worried about ever since deciding to have a baby. 

On Thursday night our son threw up for the first time. I'd always wondered if you could tell the difference between a baby spitting you and throwing up. You can. And it was awful, and everywhere, and I panicked. At first it was totally normal mommy panic... I peeled his jammies off, stripped his bed, and we jumped into the shower. And he was fine, for almost a half hour, and then it happened again. And that's when I panic-panicked. I knew he was sick. And instead of remaining calm for him, I needed an Ativan, and called my husband to come home early from work. While laying with him on a towel on the couch, I was having hot flashes and spinning and wondering what the hell I was going to do with him when I started throwing up. But I didn't, we took him to emerge, and everything was ok. 

On Saturday night though, it hit my husband, and that's when I hit the floor. The panic hit me so quickly that I physically hit the floor, and prepared myself to be sick. He threw up on the couch, while I sat on our bathroom floor, and my dad brought the baby up to his room. It didn't take too long to remind myself of the hundreds of times he'd looked after me while sick, and I was able to get him a cold cloth, and drugs, and rinse out his bucket. I'm proud to say that I was able to put my anxiety away enough, eventually (with the help of Ativan) and care for our baby by myself all day Sunday, while he rested. 

But I remained completely jittery and on edge, and prepared. Being prepared is one of the only ways those of us with anxiety, can curb it. And how do you prepare for the tummy flu? You make sure your bathroom is clean, and your toilet is always flushed. You make sure there is Gravol and Ativan and Imodium in the bathroom, and your bedroom, and the living room, anywhere that the initial getting sick can start. You make sure you know everyone else's schedule, and reassure yourself that if worse comes to worst, someone else will be able to help you get through it. And most importantly, to me, as mental as it sounds, you don't eat. 

It's a gross fact that I convinced myself of when I first got sick: if my tummy is empty, there won't be much to come out when I get sick. A psychiatrist once referred to it as an involuntary eating disorder. My desire has never been to lose weight, but to protect myself. A logic that obviously doesn't make sense to most others! It is half the reason I lost almost 40lbs after high school, the other half being that I spent/spend so much time throwing up and at risk of shitting my pants thanks to Endometriosis. But that's old news. 

I woke up Monday morning, after getting little sleep with a fussy baby (he was healing himself, and I'm quite sure he can tell that something was wrong), and it was officially my turn. In a way I was relieved, that I hadn't been freaking out for no reason, that my yucky predictions were correct. And yet, I always feel caught off guard when panic sets in. I yelled to my husband that he had to be the one to get the baby when he woke up, and took familiar comfort in how cold the bathroom floor always is. I have become a pro at being sick, you know? I know to get an Ativan under my tongue before it all comes out for the first time, I know to grab a bucket (because sometimes you need the toilet and a bucket) and a cold cloth, and I no longer NEED someone next to me while it's happening. I used to spend hours, days on the bathroom floor too terrified to leave, but now I can sit down, do my business, and find my way back to my much comfier and cleaner bed, until it's time to do it again. But I still rely on Ativan, and Gravol comas. And this time, grandparents to look after our baby while we emptied out and recover! I can't even tell you what a relief it is, as much as I desperately hate knowing that he's not outside our door right now, knowing that he is safe, and happy, and being better taken care of at my mom's tonight. 

I'm pretty sure more than one person would think that if I can't be sick AND be a mommy at the same time, then I shouldn't be a mommy. Sometimes I think that too, actually. But this is 48 hours out of the year (knock on wood, the bug tends to only hit you once a year) and so I remind myself there are 8,712 hours during which I am the best mommy. I remind myself that the best children are the ones who grow up with parents who aren't afraid to ask for help. Right? I hate thinking that the moment things get tough, I give my baby away... But I know he's FAR better off playing, and snuggling at Nana's, then being stuck on the bathroom floor next to me all day. I can barely lift my head (I started typing this 2 days ago, and get dizzy and winded just moving my fingers around my phone after 15 minutes), never mind a 7 month old, so the simple fact is that he is safer with someone else right now. Clearly I'm just trying to justify my actions to all the other judgy super moms out there that don't even break a sweat when they start puking, with 3 kids running around, and a dinner party to host in a few hours. Those moms are assholes, but I do bow down to them. 

The point is, becoming a mother, surviving a baby coming out of your body and then raising him, that equals super powers. Unfortunately, even super powers don't keep the anxiety monster away. Because he's not easily intimidated, and he's not an empathetic monster. He doesn't realize that someone like me can no longer afford panic attacks, now that I have a baby to look after. He doesn't give a shit!

I will get better at this, though. This balance between caring for myself while also having to care for my child. I have years to practice. And I will work hard. My son inspires me to be better at it. It's remarkable how resilient babies are, mind blowing actually. He'd be limp, and look sad for maybe 60 seconds after throwing up, but then he was laughing and squealing and doing his little humpy dance. I need to learn from that. And I need to do whatever I can to keep fear away from him. At 7 months old he is already stronger, and braver (and better looking) then I am, and I will do whatever it takes to keep it that way. 

The messy part is finally over for us all (my dad also got sick today!), and now we just have to recover slowly. This is the point where I have to start constantly reminding myself that it's over, that I'm going to be back to my old self, physically, in less then another 24 hours. Like I said, it may take the rest of the week to find my way back to a place where the teeniest tummy gurgle doesn't make me lunge for an Ativan. It will be a while before I can fall asleep confident that I won't throw up again as soon as I wake up. But that's just me, that's my reality. And I'm pretty sure that looking forward to dancing around and being silly with my baby again, is as great a motivator, as it is new! Years ago, I'd hide safely in my bed for a week after being this sick, but that can't happen now that I'm a mommy. Now smushing those perfect smirky cheeks again, is far more appealing to me.